Through Life and Death
by MelodyOfSong526
Summary: The day of Mary's pregnancy in Matthew's POV. Oneshot.


**I decided to be even crueler than Julian (is that even humanly possible?) and write a recount of the events in CS2 through Matthew's eyes.  
**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey.**_

* * *

Through Life and Death

**He is nervous**. Every part of him trembles with fear as his wife leaves for the train station. He is thinking of his sister-in-law's death. The sight of Sybil's porcelain complexion turning to marble within mere seconds was one of the most disturbing moments of Matthew had ever encountered.

Suddenly, he sees his beloved Mary suffering from a similar—or more horrid—fate.

He shudders and pushes the thought from his mind.

* * *

**He hunts. **An antelope appears. He is about to pull the trigger when Mosely shouts his name. Uttering profanities, he waits for Mosely to meet him. Between ragged breaths, his valet confides the news. Suddenly, Matthew _feels _his pallor pale rather significantly. The breakfast he had consumed a few hours prior begins to roil about in his stomach. Excusing himself, he hurries back to Duneagle with Mosely.

* * *

**He is on the train. **He cannot sit still. His hands are trembling. He thinks of his wife. How lonely she must be! Surely nothing would go wrong.

But then, Sybil…

He desperately wishes for the train to hurry its descent.

* * *

**He steps onto the platform.** After distractedly pushing through the crowd of people, the chauffeur finds him. With wide, anxious eyes, he orders for the luggage to be brought back to Downton. Then, he goes off and searches for his car while the chauffeur heads back towards the family's Renault.

* * *

**He arrives at the hospital. ** His mother immediately intercepts him and grins. She leads him toward Mary's room.

He is sweating profusely. His heart races inside his chest. A million things run through his mind. The worst outcomes begin to cloud his better judgment.

He is shaking. The sun streaming through the windows does nothing to calm his erratic nerves. Instead, it only worsens matters. He prays that Mary and the child are alright.

He takes a steadying breath before entering the room.

* * *

**He steps inside to find his wife holding a bundle of blankets.**

Could it be?

He grins and breathes a sigh of relief.

"Can this hot and dusty traveler come in?" he jokes as the realization begins to sink in.

He was a father.

Anna grins and takes her leave. Matthew takes her place at Mary's bedside.

"Say hello to your son and heir." Mary passes the child into Matthew's arms.

Gently, Matthew takes the child, remembering to support the tiny one's head. With a start, he sees that the child has large, brown eyes similar to his own. Yet the shape—a bit ovular—comes from Mary.

"Hello, my dearest little chap."

As an afterthought, he looks at his wife and said, "I wonder…if he has any idea how much joy he brings me."

He glances down at the child—_his _child—and lets out a tiny laugh. The emotions are overwhelming.

"Oh, my darling. How are you, really?" Though he is no longer worried for his wife's condition, there was no doubt that she was exhausted.

"Tired. And pretty relieved."

He laughs and smiles once more at his child.

"Just think," she continues. "We've done our duty. Downton is safe. Papa must be dancing a jig."

"_I'm _dancing a jig! I feel like I've swallowed a box of fireworks!"

With a tiny bit of reluctance, he returns the infant to his wife.

He settles into a chair next to his wife's bed.

"You are going to be such a wonderful mother."

She smiles at him. "How do you know?"

"Because," he moves from the chair and down onto the floor. "Because you're such a wonderful woman."

She looks up from the child and smiles at him. The gaze only lasts a few seconds, yet it holds the promise of a lifetime of love and happiness.

"I hope I'm allowed to be…_your _Mary Crawley for all eternity, and not Edith's version, or anyone else's for that matter."  
"You'll be my Mary, always, because mine is the _true_ Mary."

He sounds so bloody cheesy, but he doesn't care at the moment.

"Do you ever wonder how happy you've made me?"

"You sound rather foreign. Shouldn't you be saying things like, 'you'll be up and about in no time?'"

He laughs and brushes it off. "I'll do that tomorrow. But right now, I want to tell you that I fall more in love with you with every day that passes.

"I'll remind you of that next time I scratch the car."

"Oh, do. I give you full commission." He laughs.

He reaches over and folds down part of the blanket to gaze at his son once again.

"Where are the others?" she inquires as she stares wonderingly at the child.

"Back at the house. Panting to see you, to see you _both_." He grins as he caresses his child's cheek.

"But I've sent Mother to keep you at bay." He continues. "I wanted a chance to be alone, with _my _family." He gazes up at her and smiles before returning his eyes to the child.

"You'd better go and tell them. But first, I think I've earned a decent kiss."

He looks up at her and beamed.

"You most certainly, certainly have." He leans up farther on his knees and obliges her request.

When they break apart, they smile at each other in the proud way that new parents do and shift their eyes once again down to their child.

Matthew Reginald Crawley leaves the room with a light heart and a wide grin.

* * *

**He is driving.** The wind howls in his ears. He cannot crush the elation that was growing within him. He has a son! A wonderful, healthy son whom he would watch grow up to become a man. He drives fast, wanting to reach Downton as quickly as possible.

He doesn't see the oncoming car until it is too late.

* * *

**He is in pain. **The blood pours down his head, and his vision begins to go blurry.

With these observations, he concludes that he is about to leave the Earth.

His life flashes before his eyes in a series of images.

The death of his father.

His mother's nursing and love.

Falling in love with Mary Crawley.

Seeing his son for the first—and last time—ever.

The darkness closes in. As he lets it claim him, he allows one though to reverberate in his mind:

_I love you, Mary Crawley._

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